Speak No Evil
by yuki kahara
Summary: Dean didn't speak for over a year after The Fire.


Disclaimer: I wish. Monsieur Kripke owns these wonderful characters.

* * *

 _Dean._

 _Dean, wake up._

 _Wake up, Dean._

The voice is soft, more like a whispered echo. It is soothing, calming. It reminds him of all things good in the world. Daddy's hugs, Mommy's pies, Sammy's giggles.

 _Dean._

 _You must wake up now, Child._

 _Dean._

He doesn't want to wake up. He's warm and cozy, sleepy, but there is something else about the voice, something that makes him want to listen, want to obey. The voice needs him to wake up. He doesn't want to disappoint the owner of that voice.

 _DEAN!_

It's dark when Dean gradually opens his eyes, but not pitch black. The moon is bright and lights his room enough to see by. He's completely alone, and it's impossibly silent, and for a moment, Dean can't figure out what woke him up.

 _Dean._

Ah, yes. The voice. Dean's pretty sure he's heard that voice before, but his sleepy mind can't seem to put a face or name to the sound.

 _Dean, get up._

Okay. Dean sits up in his new Big Boy Bed, slowly rubbing the sleep from his right eye. He looks around, but no one is standing beside him.

 _Dean._

"Yeah?"

 _Get up, Dean._

"How come?"

 _Sam needs you._

 _Your Mother and Father need you._

Good enough for him. Dean tosses his Power Ranger blanket back, rolls onto his tummy, and slides off the side of his bed.

"Do I -"

A scream, loud, sudden, and decidedly feminine, tears through the silent night. Dean freezes, little hand gripping his bedding. He blinks wide eyes at his mostly closed door.

"Mary!"

Daddy's running up the stairs, the poor wood creaking under the unexpected abuse.

A whimper escapes Dean's trembling lips. You're not s'pose ta run in the house, 'specially near the stairs. Daddy's breaking the rules.

 _It is alright, Dean._

 _I am beside you._

Dean instantly relaxes, just a little, at the reassurance. He's not alone.

 _Dean._

 _Listen closely._

 _I need you to go to your father._

 _Go to your father, Dean._

"Where is he?"

 _Sam._

 _The nursery._

Dean quietly pulls his bedroom door open, just enough to slip out, and looks to the nursery doorway. The door is open and there is a strange orange glow pouring out. Dean starts towards it anyway.

 _Dean, WAIT._

Dean halts, unsure of what to do next, exactly. The decision is no longer his to make when Daddy practically falls out of the room in question.

"Daddy!"

The yell draws Daddy's attention. He staggers towards Dean and hands him something large, soft and warm. Startled, Dean looks into the terrified, yet determined brown eyes of his Daddy.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back."

Dean glances once more at the nursery doorway.

"Now, Dean! Go!"

 _RUN, DEAN._

Dean turns sharply on his toes and, forgetting the rules completely, bolts over to and down the stairs. He continues to run, doing his best to ignore Daddy's yells, stopping only to pry open the heavy front door.

The air here is significantly cooler on his face than in the hallway; the grass slightly damp on his bare feet, slowly soaking the hems of his plaid pajamas.

"It's okay, Sammy."

Dean turns to look at his beloved home and can only stare in awe at the flickering orange coming from the second floor window where Sammy used to sleep.

"Heya, Kiddo."

Dean jumps, his grip on Sammy instinctively tightening at the unfamiliar voice. He rips his gaze from the fire in front of him, to the stranger kneeling at his left.

He's older than Daddy, but not by much. His hair, short and dark, is mostly hidden under the crème colored fedora that matches his suit. His features are smooth and soft and inviting, with his oval jaw and slender nose and slightly pointy ears. His emerald tie enhances hazel eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

There's something Dean doesn't like about the man, though. Something off about his too wide smile. He slowly takes a half step backwards.

The stranger notices the movement and puts on a faux hurt expression.

"Aw, don't be like that. You'll hurt my feelings. Duncha wanna be friends?"

The man smiles his too big smile again, reaching over to caress Dean's left cheek. Dean flinches at the contact, but otherwise remains still, too confused and frightened to move.

"Well, aren't you just destined to be a lady killer, hm? Such a pretty little thing. You gunna grow up big and strong, just like Daddy?"

Dean can't help but shiver at the sweetly sour words, at the hand still cupping his cheek. He warily glances around the yard, searching for Daddy, or a neighbor, or the owner of the voice from earlier. Anyone to intervene. No one is there.

The stranger turns his unnerving eyes downwards.

"And who do we have here?"

The man moves to stroke Sammy's soft hair, but that's just something Dean won't tolerate. He shifts his tiny body sideways, putting himself between the creepy stranger and his baby brother and glares over his bony shoulder.

"Don't touch him."

The stranger raises an amused eyebrow at Dean's bravado.

"Ooh, protective, aren't we?"

Dean worries his bottom lip as he curls even more around Sammy, shielding him from the man's gaze and taking another step back.

The stranger grins menacingly, leaning closer still. He moves as if he's about to grab Dean, mouth opening to say more, when he freezes completely, attention snapping up to something behind the two young boys.

That's when Dean feels it. It reminds him of when Mommy wraps a warm, fluffy towel around him after bath time. He no longer feels so cold, or scared, or alone. He's safe now. They both are.

The man retracts his hand slowly, eyes still transfixed over Dean's head. He glares, lip curling into an ugly snarl, and his eyes do something odd. He blinks and they turn from cool hazel to an angry gold.

They're still gold when he flicks his gaze to Dean, and in that second of eye contact, Dean forgets how to breathe. He stands paralyzed, staring into heated darkness. Into fear, and death, and all things evil. Dean swallows thickly and leans back into the safeness standing behind him.

The Gold Eyed Man looks up through his lashes, smiling once more.

"Fine. You win. For now. But the boy WILL be mine, make no mistake about that."

He turns back to Dean, and though he smiles still, his gold eyes are cold, bitter with his forced retreat.

"Well, I guess I'll be seein' ya, Kiddo."

As he starts to stand, he pauses, as though just remembering something important.

"Oh, and Kiddo, I think it would be best if we didn't tell Daddy about this. It'll be our little secret, yeah?"

He hides his grin with one thin finger.

"Tell him, and I'll have to come back. I'll take him, and Sammy here, just like I took Mommy. We wouldn't want that, now would we? Hm?"

Dean, terrified and trembling, shakes his head violently. He tightens his protective grip on Sammy, and in response the safeness around him intensifies.

The Gold Eyed Man finally stands, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright. I'm going."

He smiles back at Dean.

"Later, Dean-o. And remember-"

He again holds a single finger to his lips. He then winks, and as suddenly as he appeared, is gone, no trace left of him.

The warmth surrounding Dean also dissipates, and before Dean can thoroughly panic, he feel hands, hands he knows so well, grab him under the arms and under his bottom and lift him off the ground.

There is a loud bang-like noise like Daddy's action movies Dean's not allowed to watch, but Dean can't bring himself to care what caused it. Daddy's here and that's all that matters. Daddy's here and he won't let the scary Gold Eyed Man touch him or Sammy again.

Dean does, however, notice that Mommy is not with him. He notices, and that, he cares about a lot, though he isn't as shocked as he thinks he should be by that realization. The Gold Eyed Man did say Mommy was gone, didn't he?

An hour later, Dean sits leaning heavily against Daddy on the hood of the Impala as they watch the firemen put out the flames. The safeness from earlier is back, though much fainter, and he wonders if Daddy or Sammy can feel it, too.

Daddy sighs a sigh that shifts all three of them, and hugs Dean and Sammy closer to himself. He rubs his hand up and down Dean's arm once, before bringing Dean's head flush against his chest and kissing Dean's blonde hair.

"What d'ya boys say we head over to Uncle Dylan and Aunt Jenny's place for a little while?"

Dean, still staring blankly at their ruined home, nods numbly. He opens his mouth to verbally agree, but pauses. The memory of Gold Eyes and Frightening Grins overpowers him, makes his vision blurry and his head light and his body cold.

Dean remembers a thin finger and a cold voice pretending to be warm, and he closes his mouth.

" _ **Don't tell Daddy, or I'll be back."**_

Don't tell Daddy, what, exactly? The Gold Eyed Man wasn't very specific. Dean's not sure what he's not suppose to say, what the secret was.

What was it Mommy used to say?

Better safe than sorry.

"Dean?"

Dean just nods again against Daddy's chest.

He's not sure what he's not suppose to say. So he doesn't say anything at all.

Just to be safe.


End file.
